They swayed down the dark hallway, pulling at each other’s clothes and sweeping and skidding their hands across each other’s skin. White’s mattress had no sheets, but it had tight springs and Freddy bounced when he flopped back onto it. White pressed into him, first with his thick, slick fingers and then with the blunt head of his cock and Freddy said “oh” and “yes” and “good, so good.” Then he made a lot of noises that weren’t words, weren’t even attempts at words, but when they got close to the end, Freddy brought his hand up to White’s face and tried to say he was strung out tight, that he was close, that he coming right that second, but the words caught tangled up inside him and he just said, “I…” and then again, “I…” White buried his face in Freddy’s hand, kissing his palm and murmuring.

“Whatever you say,” White said, as everything in Freddy that was hot and tense snapped open and dissolved into a swimming mindless pleasure. “Whatever you say.”